


i couldn't quit you if i tried

by toxica939



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 20:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15469260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxica939/pseuds/toxica939
Summary: Robert is a stiff breeze, leaves him gasping and goose pimpled; open mouthed and wanting.ORFive times Aaron can't help himself when it comes to Robert





	i couldn't quit you if i tried

Robert always does this to him; loiters in the shadows of the cabin, leafing through a file of papers Aaron shoved together in a panic when it seemed like Adam might take an interest in whatever Robert was there for today. He's been holed up in the corner for over an hour, long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. Aaron has to step over his feet every time he needs something from the filing cabinet and it's making the back of his neck feel hot.

Adam steps out to answer his phone in the end, pokes his head back in with an apologetic wince. “Is it alright if I get off, mate? Vic's finishing early, thought I might take her into town, y'know?”

Aaron nods, like he's the one doing someone a favour. “Alright, yeah. See you in the morning.”

The silence echos when the door closes behind him, and neither of them moves until his car starts up. Adam leaving should make Aaron relax but it just makes him feel even more tightly wound. Waiting, now, for the inevitable.

“I was starting to think he'd never leave,” Robert says, unfolding himself from his chair. His arms stretch up and over his head, shirt pulling tight where it's tucked behind his belt. If Aaron were a different sort of man, he'd have tugged that loose by now, slipped his hand up under it to trace the downy line of hair below Robert's belly button, listened to him hiss, belly caving inwards.

As it is, he just sinks back, bum resting against the edge of his desk, legs parting without conscious thought to let Robert step up against him, into him.

Robert's hands are gentle on his jaw, mouth wet and hot against the side of Aaron's neck. A breath shudders out of him, hands curling around the edge of the desk.

“You've been driving me crazy all afternoon,” Robert's saying between kisses, already revved up and restless.

“Have I?”

It's a game they play, Robert telling Aaron everything he's ever wanted to hear, and Aaron pretending he doesn't want to hear it, doesn't crave it the same way he craves everything else about Robert. Aaron's not sure who's winning.

Robert's answer is a kiss, full on the mouth and deep enough that Aaron's hands come up, holding on to his arms for balance.

He shakes himself free, eventually, cranes his neck back. “We shouldn't do this here.”

Robert's eyes are dark, smile that dizzying one, the one that undid Aaron in the first place.

“Do you want me to go?” Robert asks, amused.

Sometimes Aaron thinks he must have been drifting until now, until this. This mistake. This man. Robert is a stiff breeze, leaves him gasping and goose pimpled; open mouthed and wanting.

Aaron should go home. Send Robert back to the big house and his wife. Should take himself to the safety of his teenage bedroom and the hum of the pub below. But he knows what lies there, another night staring at the ceiling, the ghost of Robert moving over him. _Upstairs now_ and the hottest mouth Aaron has ever succumbed to.

Aaron already has a lifetime of regrets under his belt. Coming alive under Robert's hands, for a moment, a breath. That's one he can't help but keep making.

He fits his palm to the soft plane of Robert's chest, thumb tracing the edge of his tie. Robert's eyes are still searching, a deep line between them like he's the one who's torn.

Aaron leans up to fit their mouths together.

Says, "No," and hopes it's a mistake worth making.

 

:::

 

He's been trying to extract himself for the last 15 minutes. Every time he gets as far as his knees Robert's mouth follows him, greedy hands stroking up the backs of his arms, up to hold his face still and close while Robert kisses him stupid.

It's those long, sucking kisses, Robert's tongue soft and wet in Aaron's mouth. It's not a tease, it's a prelude, a this is what you've won, sign right here and claim your prize, sir.

Aaron sinks back into it for another minute, his own hand in Robert's hair to tip his head back, put him where he wants him.

The next time he tries to pull away he gets a hand up between them, two fingers over Robert's lips to hold him back. He knows he sounds nothing but exasperatedly fond when he speaks.

"I've got a scrap run at nine,” he says, shushing Robert's protests. He can hear his mum banging around down the hall, bathroom door opening and closing. He should have left by now. “You've got to let me go.”

Robert grabs his hand, moving it out the way for one more kiss, before flopping back into the pillows with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Be boring.”

Aaron scoffs, can never help but be amused by Robert's pouting. The silly, childlike side of him that Aaron's only recently gained access to. It's heady, inside Robert's walls. Almost enough to stop him climbing off the bed to find some clean pants.

He's half dressed; work trousers unbelted at his hips, blast of deodorant like ice under each arm, when he glances back at the bed. Robert's still reclined on the pillows, starkly pale against the dark sheets, hair a messy mockery of a halo around his head. He's watching Aaron through slitted eyes, and he's shoved the duvet down around his spread knees, hand cupped over his cock, stroking over it in lazy pulls as Aaron's attention narrows there.

Aaron falters, t shirt hanging limp from his hand. “What are you doing?” he asks. It doesn't sound like his voice, the world is already dipping in and out.

Robert's eyebrows raise. “What does it look like?”

“Robert,” he says, a whine. “I've got work.”

Robert hmms at him, head pushing back, thighs spreading. He's pressing his cock up against his belly, hiding it behind the flat of his hand while his breath turns shallow.

Aaron is used to wanting. Especially when it comes to Robert. Wanting what he couldn't have, and then having, and losing, having again and then having and having. Robert like this makes his insides shake.

“Robert.”

Robert groans, squirming into the bed. His cheeks are flushed a berry red, tongue wetting his lips. Aaron watches the flex of muscles in his arm, tendons shifting; the golden fuzz of hair on his thighs in the gauzy, curtain-filtered light.

He's got a knee back on the bed before he realises he's moved, hand shoving his trousers and pants back down. He knocks Robert's hand away, puts his mouth there, where it's musky and hot, damp with his breath.

Robert's groan is full-bodied, now unoccupied hand sliding into the front of Aaron's hair.

If he's losing a contact for this, he'd better drink his fill.

 

:::

 

Robert's got his sleeves shoved up again, rolled to his elbows while his forearms flex.

Aaron was supposed to be sorting tea, but he's mostly standing next to the oven and trying not to stare.

It would help if Robert didn't keep flicking him amused little glances, like he knows exactly what Aaron's thinking, like he knows he's not going to do anything about it.

“But _why_ is that A?” Liv asks, for the hundredth time. She's stabbing at her exercise book, hair coming free from her ponytail where she's been rubbing at her head in frustration.

Robert rolls his eyes discreetly, leaning back in his chair. Aaron watches the bulge of his biceps as his arms fold, the pull of his shirt across his shoulders.

It's been a busy week; too much work on, Liv's resits creeping up on them. Aaron hasn't gotten more than a kiss in days, keeps getting side-stepped on his way to the sink in the morning, brush of bed-warm chest against his arm and an ache where Robert should be.

This is the first evening they've both been home since Wednesday.

Fuck it.

He ignores Robert's knowing look and steps up behind his chair anyway. Moulds his hands over Robert's shoulders in a pantomime massage, thumbs slipping up to push the fine hair at Robert's neck up, rub it against the grain in that way that always make his eyes fall closed.

“Gross,” Liv says, lip curling. “Can you not?”

Aaron grins at her, hands slipping down over Robert's chest, curling forward so he's actually hugging him. Robert's hand comes up to cover his.

Aaron smacks a kiss to Robert's cheek, because he wants to, and because he knows it'll make her squark in protest.

“Liv,” Robert says, hips rolling up to pull his wallet free from his back pocket. “I'll give you a tenner if you go and annoy Doug with this for an hour,” Aaron digs his fingers in, where they're tucked into Robert's armpit. “Two,” he revises.

Liv gapes at them. “That's disgusting. Twenty.”

Robert hands over the cash, Aaron stepping back a little until the door slams behind her. He should feel embarrassed, probably, but he doesn't. He got what he wanted.

Robert leans back in his chair again, pulling until Aaron's sinking down on top of him. “She's never going to let us live this down, you realise?”

Aaron shrugs, nosing up under Robert's ear. He tips forward on the balls of his feet to push his aching dick against Robert, pressure from his belt buckle enough to satisfy the want in him for a second.

“Do I look like I care?”

Robert's hands are hot, up under the back of Aaron's t shirt, pushing and then pulling until it's up and off. He fits his fingers to the dips of Aaron's ribs, thumbs pressing sharp heat into Aaron's nipples. “Can I have you right here then?” he asks, tongue wetting the hollow of Aaron's throat. “Over the table? On the floor?”

Aaron wishes it didn't get him hot; Robert Sugden and his dirty mouth. He can have him anywhere he wants him, always has. The Aaron who would take his jeans off in a filthy barn, spread his knees against hay dusted concrete, did not exist before Robert. Sometimes it feels like Robert broke him, remade him in the shape of Robert's own desires. Aaron can't find it in himself to care when he wants like this.

They share heaving breaths in the space between their lips, foreheads tipping together to look down at Aaron's hands as they open up Robert's jeans.

He gives Robert another kiss, thumb slipping across the sticky head of his cock. “Maybe I'll have you.”

 

:::

 

It'd be bad enough if they were just sitting with his mum and Paddy, but the whole lot of them are in tonight. Three tables full of Dingles and hangers-on, chairs pulled round so they've taken over the main floor of the pub.

Zak's regaling the group with some tale or other, one hand tugging at his cap while the other holds his pint steady. Aaron's doing his best to follow the conversation, puff a laugh in all the right places, but Robert's had a hand curled over his knee beneath the table for the last hour, his husband – _husband!_ \- tracing the seam of Aaron's jeans with three of his fingers for the last ten.

Aaron's aching, dick swollen, pushing at his jeans so he has to curl forward, elbows on the table top, hand swiping over his face every now and then to make sure he's not sweating. He feels hot all over, damp patch at the base of his spine.

“You alright, love?” his mums asks, and Robert's hand slips up, cupping him completely.

Aaron chokes, beer burning up the back of his throat and into his nose. He stamps down hard on Robert's foot.

He coughs. “Yeah, fine. Just a bit hot, I'm gonna,” he nods towards the toilets, slips away as fast as he can.

Cold air hits him as he pushes through the swinging doors. It's always freezing out by the bogs. He takes a moment in the hallway, sinking back against the wall and luxuriating in the feeling of not having anyone's eyes on him; time to cool down.

It's like going back in time, when all Robert had to do to get him stiff and leaking was catch his eye across the bar, a text message after tea, phone calls when Aaron was squirming between the cool sheets of his bed and Robert was hunched in the bathroom while his wife slept next door.

It was sexy, for a while, before Aaron started falling and didn't know how to get up. It feels a bit like that now, but it's lighter, freeing. Every time Robert touches him now, every meeting of their gaze, Aaron could have him. There's no saying good night pulled up outside the village any more, leather seats creaking tellingly if he tries to get closer. He could go back out there and kiss him, if he wanted, let them all watch.

Robert's eyes are dancing when he slips through the doors to join him.

Aaron finds himself looking around, panicked, even though there's no one else there. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

“Checking up on you,” Robert says, conversationally, as though he isn't walking Aaron back against the far wall, pushing their bodies together. “You looked like you might be getting sick.”

Aaron shoves at him. “You're a dickhead.”

Robert nods, mouth catching Aaron's in a kiss, one he gives up too willingly for someone who should be protesting.

“As much as you know I love a good old Dingle do,” Robert says, pulling a face. “Let me take you home.”

His voice is sweet; asking, not wheedling, and his hands are curled around the open edges of Aaron's hoodie.

Aaron should know better, does know better. But he's lost half in memories tinted pink by the present and he owes that lad, that stubborn, stupid, reckless lad. The one who fell and kept falling and dragged Robert down with him.

Aaron shakes his head, tempers Robert's look of disappointment with a kiss, and another, another, until they're wrapped in each other's arms, panting and heaving together.

Robert startles when Aaron pushes him backwards, into the gents. “What are you doing?” it's his turn to ask.

Aaron pulls the cubicle door shut behind them, elbow knocking against the toilet bowl as he sinks to his knees. He means to tell Robert he's _reminiscing_ , but the thought slips away.

 

:::

 

Aaron's ashamed to say he doesn't realise where they're gong until they're already there. In his defence, when Robert had dragged him away from work for an afternoon of Christmas shopping, he'd mostly only gone along with it so he could shut his eyes in the car. Something about the dark mornings and short days is ruining him this year. Maybe he's finally getting old.

He blinks for a while when Robert turns the engine off, coming to.

Then he laughs. “What are we doing here?”

The lay-by looks different than it did in summer, the fields are browning now, stretching out against a chalk white sky. He'd been sweating last time they were here, squinting against the sun. Now it's foggy breath and icy fingertips weather.

Robert shrugs, hands flexing on the steering wheel. “It's our anniversary,” he says, that smile he does with one cheek creased.

Aaron's breath catches, because he remembers, of course he remembers. Their first kiss.

“I could have swung for you that day,” Aaron tells him.

“I know, you said. I'm glad you didn't.”

So is Aaron. There have been times, since then, when he's wished he had. Wished he'd put a stop to all of this before it even got started. But it's been a long time since he's wanted to wish Robert away.

“So am I.”

Robert nods, head rolling against the headrest of his seat to look at Aaron. “It just seemed like we should mark the occasion. After everything.”

“I'm not having sex with you out here,” Aaron says, adds, “Again,” off Robert's look.

Robert shrugs. “Who asked? Typical of you that, mind always in the gutter.”

Aaron scoffs, gets a hand around the back of Robert's head to bring his smirking lips in close. They pause a breath apart, hang there. “Happy anniversary,” Aaron tells him, a graze of lips turning into a proper kiss. The kind that has Robert leaning over the centre console, hand pressing down on Aaron's knee.

Aaron drags in air through his nose, lets the kiss turn into kissing, tongue twisting in Robert's mouth, a rhythm they've always fallen into. Ever since that first time; heart in his throat and a blackbird beating it's wings behind his ribs.

He sits back, dragging Robert with him, hand fumbling for the seat recline.

He doesn't know who he was kidding. If they're making more memories, might as well do it right.

 

**Author's Note:**

> join me on tumblr, i'm vckaarrob


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